


warp speed, mr. argentum

by brosura



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read, Prompto is Trying Hard and Doing His Best, me playing fast & loose with game mechanics, mentions of nausea/vomiting, mild canon-typical violence, warping with mundane household objects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 21:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11044791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brosura/pseuds/brosura
Summary: Prompto learns to warp. Or, hetriesto, anyway.





	warp speed, mr. argentum

**Author's Note:**

> started as a #showerthought i had where i was like, what if everyone could warp the entire time and that was how they zoom zoom to Noct from across the field for link strikes? like, based on what we see kingsglaive it seems like warping is a difficult skill to acquire & maybe they’re just not as good or consistent at warping as Prince Zoom Zoom who has been training for it since he was a wee lad so they rely on him for shots where accuracy is important like the fort ambush kills??? and the only reason Prompto has a line saying he can’t warp is because he was hired for this job like 3 days ago and is just severely undertrained for all that zoom zoom nonsense and he is Not Allowed to try??????
> 
> so naturally i saw that gap between Prompto bein like "why can't i warp? :/" and warping during the armiger chain/adamantoise battle and went "my city now" because i am nothing if not self-indulgent
> 
> also, for the sake of this fic: the armiger = for the royal arms, the armory = for all the other weapons
> 
> anyway, hope y'all enjoy!!

It starts with a question. They’re settled down and lazily picking at the remnants of dinner, so Prompto’s taken it upon himself to go through the pictures of the day. It’s not long before he comes across one he took in the midst of battle, Noct’s form illuminated by blue light.

“Aw, how come I can’t warp?” he complains, mostly for the sake of complaining. _“So_ unfair.”

“Well, you _can,”_ Noct starts, tentatively, but Gladio stops the thought with a hand.

“Don’t give him ideas.” His voice is gruff as ever and only familiarity allows Prompto to stop himself from flinching. “He’s not ready for it.”

“Well, it’s too late for that,” Prompto says. “Already got ideas. Can’t just leave a guy hanging like that, can you?”

Gladio looks like he _most definitely can,_ and Noct has that look on his face like he’s weighing how much effort it’ll take to diffuse the situation. Ignis, at least, has mercy on him.

“What Noct means is that the same magic that allows you to access the Armory grants you the ability to warp,” he explains. “So you do, indeed, have the ability. But as Gladio pointed out, you’re quite lacking in skill, and it takes substantially more practice and finesse to warp than it does to simply pull a gun from the ether, I’m afraid.”

“O-oh.”

Objectively, Prompto knows this isn’t supposed to be a jab at him. He can separate himself from the situation enough to understand that he shouldn’t compare himself to Ignis and Gladio and Noctis, who have trained for this their entire lives. That he shouldn’t expect himself to be at their level even remotely. It still makes him flinch, though. It’s just enough for the insecurity he shoves down with an easy grin and a few jokes on the daily to rear its ugly head.

“Enough of that,” Ignis says when Prompto’s quiet stretches for too long, but there’s nothing harsh in his tone. “That is hardly something to be discouraged by. Even Gladio and myself have yet to master warping. We leave it to Noct when we can, since he’s been fully trained for it, unlike the three of us. And no one expects a fresh recruit like yourself to run through the drills like a veteran.”

“Yeah, it’s cool Prompto,” Noct adds, looking smug. “Just leave it to the _veteran.”_

“Veteran of _what,_ exactly?” Gladio snorts. “The War against _Waking Up at a Reasonable Hour?”_

“The War against a Healthy, Balanced Meal is more likely,” Ignis teases.

“Oh, I got one!” Prompto grins even though Noctis sends him a warning glare. “The War against _Actually Winning_ at King’s Knight!”

 _“Ooh,_ he’s got you there.” Gladio holds out a fist for Prompto to bump.

“Whatever,” Noctis grumbles, but he’s already bringing out his phone. “Why don’t you two just bring it!”

Noctis, naturally, loses.

* * *

“It’s best if you don’t start with something you can accidentally hurt yourself with,” Noct explains, handing Prompto one of Ignis’ many soup ladles. They’re hanging out in the field behind the Crow’s nest while Ignis and Gladio browse the shop, and it doesn’t take long at all for Noctis to bring up warping again. Only instead of just talking about it, he seems determined to _teach_ Prompto to warp. “Just don’t tell Ignis.”

“A ladle, huh?” Prompto eyes the thing. “Never thought you could use the Crystal’s magic on stuff like this.”

Noctis just shrugs. “I keep my fishing stuff in the Armory, don’t I? Most people I know trained to warp with whatever was around.”  

“So what did _you_ learn with? A spatula or something?”

Noct just smirks. “A shoe.”

“No _way,”_ Prompto snorts a laugh.

 _“Yes_ way.” Noctis grins back. “ _Any_ way, let’s get started.”

Prompto nods and goes to throw the ladle, but his hand slips on the upswing and it only makes a pitiful arc in the air before landing just a few feet from where they’re standing.

“Not sure if I was clear,” Noctis says, smirking. “But you have to _throw_ it for this to work.”

Prompto whacks him with the ladle before going to toss it again. This time it flies a decent distance away and they both watch it fall to the ground with a quiet thud before Prompto turns to Noctis for more instructions.

“Just think of it like calling your weapon, but the reverse,” he says, taking a step away from Prompto like he’s going to explode instead of just warp to the spoon. It’s around now that Prompto starts to get nervous. “Find your weapon, or, your _ladle,_ and call yourself to it.”

“R-right!”

He holds his hand out, the way he’s seen Noct sometimes pose before a warp, and feels for the ladle with the Crystal’s magic. He finds it and tries to do what Noct’s said, but a few moments of feeling awkward later and he’s coming up blank.

“Ok?” he says, slowly opening his eyes. He didn’t even realize he’d shut them. “That’s not working. Any other tips?”

“I don’t know.” Noct’s tone is just short of mocking, and he’s not subtle enough about hiding his snickers. “Maybe stick your hand out farther and grunt a little louder.”

 _“Dude,”_ Prompto hisses, punching his arm and trying not to flush.

“Go _get the ladle,_ Prompto,” Noct orders around another laugh. Prompto just grumbles and jogs to get it.

This cycle repeats for a good amount of time: Prompto throws the ladle, tries to warp to it, comes up with nothing, Noct says something smart and then Prompto runs to retrieve it like some kind of dog playing a self-sustaining game of fetch. Prompto’s honestly gotten sick of trying to actually warp, but Noct seems amused so he keeps going at it, laughing along with the prince at another failed attempt.

The cycle breaks when the ladle breaks, _literally._

Prompto tosses the ladle up, no differently than all the other times he’d tossed it, but this time instead of a quiet _thud_ there’s a sharp _crack._ Prompto and Noctis blink at each other like a couple of deer caught in the headlights for a moment, and then they’re both running to the downed ladle.

 _“Shit,”_ Prompto curses, picking up the ladle which had splintered messily into two pieces. This wasn’t even something they could shove together and pretend nothing happened. “Shit shit _shit.”_

“Ignis is gonna be _pissed,”_ Noctis says and Prompto realizes with horror that he’s basically holding a live time bomb in his hands.

With fear in his heart, he tries to hand the ladle off to Noctis. “Dude, you gotta tell him.”

“No,” Noct says, backing away from the broken ladle with his arms up, eyes wide with panic. _“You_ broke it, _you_ tell him.”

“You _told_ me to,” Prompto whines, chasing after Noctis with the small death sentence in his hands. “Noct, _please._ He’ll tear me to _pieces!_ With you, at least he’ll leave something left to inherit the throne!”

“L-look,” Noctis stutters. “Maybe we can just, pretend we lost it or something.”

“Pretend we lost _what?”_ the Deliverer of Absolute Judgement says. Ignis raises an eyebrow at them from the pavement where the field meets the rest stop parking lot.

“O-oh, uh,” Prompto starts, turning to Noctis for help only to find that the prince has _warped away._ Of all the not cool things, that was among the _not coolest._ Lying isn’t an option, Ignis would find out either way, so Prompto just gulps and prays for a swift and merciful death. He lifts the soup ladle in full view with a sheepish shrug. “Um, sorry?”

Dinner is a vegetable stew with beans and their next hunt is for a hive of killer bees at Ignis’ insistence.

It’s not all bad, though. As much as Prompto hates bugs, he loves fighting flying enemies. For once, he’s the most useful ally Noct has: Gladio is strong, but very much tied to the ground and Ignis has to deal with the complicating factor of gravity when throwing his knives. So it’s up to Prompto and Noctis to bring down the flyers on most hunts.

This time, though, he feels a little more awestruck and a lot more jealous watching Noct fly from enemy to enemy in little blinks of blue light.

* * *

“If you’re going to learn to warp, you should learn to phase first.”

Ignis is his first real instructor. This is good, Prompto thinks, because Ignis is meticulous and thorough in all things and if he’s going to learn the basics, it should be with someone like Ignis rather than someone like Gladio, who Prompto is completely sure is a sink or swim kind of guy. They don’t have enough ingredients for Ignis to cook anything today, so they’re resigned (delighted, in Gladio’s case) to eating Cup Noodles. Ignis, at any rate, has his evening freed up and since Noct and Gladio are off sparring on their own, he takes it upon himself to teach Prompto the basics.

Which is fine, except for the fact that it involves way more getting hit with a stick than Prompto anticipated.

“I get that, but should we really be using Noct’s _fishing rod_ for this?” Prompto asks, nervously, as Ignis raises the thing again.

“It would do for Noctis to learn that if he won’t respect one’s property, his own property won’t be respected in turn,” Ignis says with a hint of annoyance. Prompto remembers the soup ladle and flinches. “And it’s an older rod, I doubt he’ll notice. Or would you rather I use one of my spears?”

“N-no! Not that!” Prompto yelps, raising his hands in defense. “This is fine!”

“Right, then let’s continue,” Ignis raises his arm anew. “Don’t focus on the rod so much or you’ll just get hit again. Try to think of where you _should_ be to avoid it.”

Ignis says it like it’s easy, but it’s hard _not_ to focus on the rod when it’s coming down fast. His instinct would have him move, but that’s kind of counterproductive to the whole “learning magic” thing. He yelps when it hits his shoulder again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

“Let’s take a break, shall we?” Ignis says, finally letting the rod dissipate into blue flecks of light. He sounds tired. “I take no joy in causing you pain like this, and perhaps we’ve hit a wall.”

“Just a quick breather,” Prompto croaks and rubs at his shoulder. He’s far from giving up, but even the relatively light strikes of the fishing rod are starting to hurt. “I can keep going.”

Ignis gives him a moment of peace before speaking again. “If I may, I think your problem is that you’re still paying too much attention to the rod coming down.”

“It’s just kind of hard _not_ to. I mean, I see it and I want to move out of the way, but then I keep trying to do what you told me and think about where I’m supposed to be and all that. I guess it’s just...a lot to think about,” Prompto trails off, feeling self-conscious.

He knows it’s not so simple, but Noctis makes using the Crystal’s magic look natural. He’s even seen Ignis phase at least once and can think of a hundred reasons why Gladio - the Shield charged with protecting the future King - wouldn’t use magic to get out of the way. If he’s honest, he’s a little disappointed with himself. He squeezes his shoulder one more time and looks up to find Ignis looking at him thoughtfully.

“Perhaps I’ve been approaching this the wrong way. Maybe we shouldn’t speak in terms of thinking,” he teases, giving Prompto a gentle flick to the temple. “Do you remember the feeling of calling your weapon? The slight push of the air?” Prompto nods. “Remember that feeling. Now, as the rod is about to hit you, react as if you were going to step out of the way, but rather than moving yourself, call the Crystal’s magic to _push_ you the rest of the way. Is that more clear?”

“Kinda?” Prompto says. He calls his gun to him, just to reacquaint himself with the feeling, then releases it back to the Armory. “I think it’s something I can try it at least.”

“Another go, then?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Prompto straightens himself out, but he can’t stop himself from flinching as Ignis calls for the rod again. “C-can you maybe go for the other shoulder this time?”

Ignis looks amused, but he nods easily enough.

The rod hits him once more, but instead of feeling sharp pain and the pinch of disappoint, Prompto feels a pull in his gut. Something shifts, strange and familiar all at once, like when he’d sworn himself to Noctis and felt the flow of the Crystal’s magic.

Ignis hesitates on the second swing, but Prompto doesn’t.

It’s all feeling and instinct this time. He reacts only, letting his body start moving the way it wants to and just as he can see the rod about to hit him in almost slow motion, he feels something cold rush from him and he’s completely out of the way, watching the rod cut through a hazy blue after-image of himself.

Ignis blinks at the space where he used to be just once, and then makes a quiet noise that’s both amusement and approval.

 _“Very_ good, Prompto,” he says.

Prompto wants to laugh, wants to preen at the compliment - he really does - but suddenly it feels like all his limbs are both the consistency of jelly and the weight of a fully loaded concrete truck at once. He collapses to the ground with a surprised huff of air.

“Ah, you're in stasis.” Ignis says, sounding entirely unalarmed even though Prompto is dying on the ground. Prompto vaguely hears him squat down next to him and flinches as a cold hand brushes against his forehead. “You’ll find yourself quite exhausted whenever you make use of the Crystal’s magic to move your body until you build up the resistance. I would say that for now, it’s best to dodge most attacks regularly in combat, and save phasing for a last resort. Now that we know you’re able, we can start working on building up your stamina tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Prompto wheezes. _“Already?”_

“Come now,” Ignis teases with an innocent, _evil_ grin. He’s _enjoying_ this. “I thought you wanted to _warp.”_  

* * *

A few weeks later and it’s Gladio’s turn. Prompto’s built up enough stamina that one phase won’t decommission him for thirty minutes, so now they’re onto the big leagues.

“Until you’ve got more experience, only warp along sightlines and wait until your weapon hits the ground to follow through,” Gladio says, arms crossed. He’s taking the role of drillmaster very seriously. “You’ve got enough to worry about as it is, don’t need to add falling hard on your ass to the mix.”

Noctis is slinking around the sidelines. He’s here to be an example, but that look on his face is too close to the one he used to wear watching Prompto fail at some arcade game he knew he was good at himself: he looks like he can’t wait to _show off._

“We’ll start with short distances,” Gladio says, handing him an orange that was a reward from helping out a grocer in Lestallum.

Prompto knows this part, at least, so he tosses the orange a short distance away from him and looks back to Gladio.

“Don’t look at _me,_ remember what you learned with Iggy,” Gladio grumbles. “Just pull yourself _toward_ the orange instead of pushing yourself back.”

Prompto nods, shuts his eyes and focuses on the faint magic surrounding the orange, tries to remember the cold feeling rushing through him and pushing him out of the way. He thinks he almost has it, but then the magic around the orange goes dark.

“Ugh,” he groans. “So close.”

Gladio says nothing, gives Noctis a nod, and then the prince warps to the orange even though he could have just walked, like a _show off._ He tosses it back with an easy grin. “Try again, buddy.”

They go through this twice before Prompto finally makes any progress. This time he feels the rush of magic at his back, pushing him forward. But that’s all it does, just a little shove towards the orange and he blinks his eyes open only a few feet from where he started.

“Close, but no cigar,” Gladio grumbles.

 _“Man,”_ Prompto whines.

“Look, you’re still trying to phase,” Gladio says. “I said it’s _like_ phasing, not that it _is_ phasing. It’s a _pulling_ thing, got it?”

“These are all _really vague_ ways to describe a _very specific_ thing that I need to do.” Prompto isn’t pouting. He _isn’t._

“Yeah well, there isn’t exactly a precise user’s manual for the Crystal’s magic. It’s something you just have to learn through experience. It clicks or it doesn’t.”

“That seems like a dangerous way to run things.”

Gladio just shrugs. “It clicks eventually.”

Prompto grumbles and goes to pick up the orange before Noct can warp to it. He phases a few more times, on accident, then suddenly something changes. He thinks he gets what Gladio meant by a _pulling_ thing, because instead of being jolted out of the way, it suddenly feels like something is dragging him to fall forward.

And then he careens headfirst, literally, into stasis.

His palms sting with the force that he falls on them, and he has to actively fight the urge to vomit. The first thing he thinks after _“don’t hurl don’t hurl don’t hurl don’t hurl”_ is _“maybe warping isn’t so great after all.”_

Somewhere to his left, he can hear Noctis and Gladio murmuring in concern and all it takes is a warm hand on his back for him to collapse fully onto the ground. He tries not to blush at Gladio’s familiar snort.

“Alright we’re calling it a day, tough guy,” Gladio grumbles, slinging Prompto easily over a shoulder. Noctis follows behind, expression equal parts concerned and amused. “Why don’t you stick to phasing for now?”

“Sounds good,” Prompto croaks.

“Don’t feel too bad,” Noctis says, looking smug. “It took Gladio _two years_ to warp, and he threw up the first time. On _Cor.”_

Even with Prompto on his shoulder, Gladio still manages to wrestle Noct into a headlock.  

* * *

Prompto does, eventually, warp.

They’re invading some Nif base and he and Noct have gotten separated from Ignis and Gladio, which is already troubling in and of itself. They’re not normally split up this way, usually it’s Ignis or Gladio who rushes forward with Noct, with the other staying behind to keep the enemies off Prompto long enough that he can actually think about his shots instead of just desperately firing at the closest target.

But they’re a ways back, tied up in battle with one of those big death robots, so _he’s_ been watching Noct’s six and picking off the strays that got too close. And it’s hard, because Noctis is sort of in a _mood_  today and he keeps rushing forward, _warping forward,_ deeper into enemy territory. Ordinarily, he’d whine about leaving the others behind, but there are a lot of things on his mind right now - or rather, a lot of enemies in his sights - so he just chases after each blink of blue light in the dim light of the dawn and hopes Ignis and Gladio are picking up his slack.

So he’s the only one close enough to see it happen, to be able to do anything about it when he sees an MT get the jump on Noctis where he’s warped up to a lookout tower. It has its thin blade wedged into his gut, and while Prompto knows from experience that it’s an easy heal if Noct can escape its hold, it’s still terrifying to watch Noct go limp and drop his sword.

On top of that, the MT’s holding him too close, Prompto can’t properly get a shot in without the risk of hitting Noctis. He holds his gun up anyway, hoping for any kind of opening. He knows if he runs up the stairs it’ll be too late.

Distantly, he can feel the magic around the sword Noct had dropped and thinks about warping. It might be his only option, he can’t do anything from here.

He just needs to _be there._

 

And suddenly he is.

Without realizing it, he’s warped to where Noct’s dropped his weapon before the thing could fade back into the Armory. He has a moment, just a moment, to take that in - the cold, buzzing feeling of magic running underneath his skin - and then the MT turns to him with a disgusting, unnatural creak. On instinct, he draws his gun and fires, catching the thing right between the eyes.

He watches as it dissolves into black mist until he realizes he’s now staring at Noct, who's crumpled behind the MT. They blink at each other, Noctis panting heavily and Prompto still in that moment of panic where he’s forgotten to breath.

Then Prompto drags in shaky a breath and rushes to the railing to heave up whatever was left in his stomach from dinner.

“Whoa! Watch it, Prompto!” he hears Gladio yelling below. He sounds more surprised than angry, but his tone is sharp enough to make Prompto flinch.

“S-sorry!” he calls down, burying his face into his arms to avoiding seeing just how close he’d been to puking on his friends.

“I’m assuming since you have the time to be sick that the situation can be considered handled?” Ignis says, sounding a bit irritated.

Before Prompto can apologize, he hears Noctis yell down an affirmative, voice a little rough - the aftereffects of being stabbed, probably - from somewhere to his right.

“Good hustle, buddy,” Noctis says, softly, and there’s a warm hand on his back.

In spite of everything, Prompto laughs. They sit there for a while and at some point he hears Noctis crack open a potion at his side. Below them, Ignis and Gladio are talking in low voices, which is a relief, at least, since they wouldn’t loiter if there were still enemies around.

“Hate to ask, but you got anything else left in there to yack?” Noct finally says, looking down. “Pretty sure I’m in for a scolding for rushing ahead, and the longer they think it’s not safe to head up the stairs, the better...”

“Got you, dude,” he croaks, as if he can actually stop his head from spinning as he looks over the edge and his stomach decides it’s not finished trying to ruin his day.

 _“Prompto!”_ Gladio yells again, and Prompto squeezes his eyes shut.

“Look out below?” he croaks down, sheepishly.

Noctis just laughs and rubs between his shoulder blades, “Nice.”

Gladio slaps him on the back with a grin when they finally head down, though, and Ignis lets him eat double portions at breakfast to make up for what he lost.

* * *

If anyone told Prompto that he’d fight a turtle the size of an actual mountain one day, he probably wouldn’t have believed them.

He barely believes _himself,_ here and now, fighting a turtle the size of an actual mountain.

“So, we’re really doing this,” Prompto gulps, watching another round of his bullets disappear into the actual, literal turtle mountain before him. _“Really_ really. For real.”

“Really,” Gladio says.

“Really really,” Ignis is next, tone dry.

“For real,” Noct finishes with a smirk.

Prompto doesn’t even have the energy to be mad at them, his whole body is shaking with the force of the turtle’s - the _turtle’s!_ \- struggle. He only just barely hears Ignis’ suggestion that they should _“try for higher ground”_ as Noctis rolls out from an attack from the massive beast. Then suddenly, the small blade he’d warped to weeks ago appears before him. He stares at it dumbly for a moment, then Gladio, who he can see on his periphery holding a weapon of his own, slaps him hard on the back with a yell.

“Look alive, Prompto!”

Prompto yelps an affirmative and grabs the sword.

“See you at the top,” Noct says with a vicious grin. Then he’s gone in a flurry of blue light.

Ignis and Gladio follow shortly after, and then it’s just Prompto, alone, holding a sword and coming to terms with the fact that he’s about to zoom his way up an _actual_ living and fighting mountain.

Well, if a tree falls in a forest and no one’s around to hear it…

And if he yacks on top of a giant turtle, well, who’s going to find out?

He tosses the sword.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact this was written before the ring of the lucii got buffed past Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson levels of strength and you could OHKO the adamantoise, but i forgot that i wrote it not once, but TWICE and it has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust until i found it for the third time, a stalwart testament to my status as garbage, as a mess, as a walking human disaster
> 
> also if anyone's curious, it's the Sword of the Wise that prompto gets during the adamantoise battle
> 
> anyway! hope you enjoyed! please feel free to leave me a comment or [send a lil yell](http://brosura.tumblr.com/ask) my way on [tumblr](http://brosura.tumblr.com/)!!


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